Woah Frank, oh Frank, don’t treat us so mean,
You’re the meanest old miser that we’ve ever seen.
I guess if you say so
I have to pack your things and have you go. (That’s right)

(Hit the road Frank and don’t you come back no more, no more, no more, no more.)
(Hit the road Frank and don’t you come back no more.)
What you say?
(Hit the road Frank and don’t you come back no more, no more, no more, no more.)
(Hit the road Frank and don’t you come back no more.)

well baby, listen baby, don’t ya treat us this-a way
Cause we’ll be back on our feet after your gone some day.
(Don’t care if you do ’cause it’s understood)
(you ain’t got no money you just ain’t no good.)
Well, I guess if you say so
I’d have to pack your things and have go. (That’s right)

(Hit the road Frank and don’t you come back no more, no more, no more, no more.)
(Hit the road Frank and don’t you come back no more.)
What you say?
(Hit the road Frank and don’t you come back no more, no more, no more, no more.)
(Hit the road Frank and don’t you come back no more.)

well!!
(don’t you come back no more.)
Uhh what did you say?
(don’t you come back no more.)
i did not understand it
(don’t you come back no more.)
i came to talk it over
(don’t you come back no more.)
i thaught we had a better understanding
(don’t you come back no more.)
oh baby dont be so chicken
(don’t you come back no more.)
you dont want to see me cry x2
(don’t you come back no more.)
oh baby it isnt fair
ooh yeahh

PVLs ROCK

PVLs, PVLs, PVLs rock
They’re on the wane and they don’t complain
Huffin’ and puffin’ while tryin’ to run
And the one at 3rd weighs a ton

PVLs, PVLs, PVLs rock
Belong in the booth, they’re long in the tooth
Throwin’ and showin’ their PVL wares
All without a care

It’s the right time for a fright line
Of Oh for five today
PVL time in the sunshine
But not right after a night game they say

Hurry-up PVLs put on your cleats
Time to go punch the clock
Spittin’ and ascratchin’ and agrindin’ that’s neat!
That’s cuz PVLs rock

PVLs PVLs PVLs rock
They never quit though they play like… poop
With hammies and crampies, sometimes it’s a toe
The DL they go

Winter meet time is a neat time
To get you some to play
Bring your checkbook, get a good look
Sign ya up a bunch of vet’rans today

Hurry-up PVLs put on your cleats
Time to go punch the clock
Spittin’ and ascratchin’ and agrindin’ that’s neat!
That’s cuz PVLs
That’s cuz PVLs
That’s cuz PVLs rock!!

©NedCo Broken Records 2011

Here’s tonight’s selection: Bing Crosby – It’s Beginning to Look a lot Like Christmas

IT’S BEGINNING TO LOOK A LOT LIKE NED’S WORK

It’s beginning to look a lot like Ned’s work
Bums around the horn
There’s Uribe at third, oh hell
Ellis can’t hit as well
Loney’s lame and Gordon’s tame for sure

It’s beginning to look a lot like Ned’s work
PVLs galore
But the happiest sight we’ll see
And how giddy we will be
When Ned’s shown the door

A pair of Kennedy’s boots and a Hairston old coot
Ned can’t learn him when to say when
Capuano can’t pitch and Harang’s starts a bitch
Looks like third or lower again
And he’ll be late but I can’t wait til Beli saunters in

It’s beginning to look a lot like Ned’s work
Last year’s team no more
Didn’t think Miles was swell
Told Kuroda to go to hell
Barajas left, no Carroll to adore

It’s beginning to look a lot like Ned’s work
Soon the bell will ring
And the scariest sights we’ll see
Are the horrors that will be
At our own front door

[Musical interlude]

It’s beginning to look a lot like Ned’s work
Soon the bell will ring
And the scariest sights we’ll see
Are the horrors that will be
At our own front door
Sure its Ned’s work once more

©NedCo Broken Records 2011

Time for another holiday tune. Carol of the Bells:

Frank! please do sell, PVL’s swell
Bad players stay, good go away
Meetings are near, nothing to cheer
Too many old, team’s still not sold
Same song, same song, Ned gets it wrong
Years since a ring, ooh that one stings
Our biggest fear, nuther lost year
Club everywhere in disrepair
‘Ribe is round, paid by the pound
Over the hill, pitching is ill

Old ding-a-ling, its Larry King
Pain in my rear, Ned’s boys are here
Capuano be another Ned mess
Capuano be another Ned mess

Downwards the trend. When will it end?
Bud’s on the phone, throw us a bone
All parking lots, certainly not
Fans always say Ned over-pays
Wisht he weren’t here out on his rear
Into the fold, Treanor we’re told
Sing song, sing song, need us King Kong
Jamie’s lil’ fling started this thing
Words that were feared, divorce is here
From everywhere, fans in despair
Andre has frowned, hopes have all drowned
‘Roda is gone, but we’ve got Juan

Oldies we bring, dreading next spring
Reasons to sneer, A.K. is here
Capuano be another Ned mess
Capuano be another Ned mess

Frank! please do sell, PVL’s swell
Bad players stay, good go away…

©NedCo Broken Records 2011

NED’S FAUX PAS ARE COMING TO TOWN

Who’s gonna strike out?
Who’ll hit a pop fly?
No reason t’shout
I’m telling you why
Ned’s faux pas are coming to town

He’s made out his list
And altered it twice
Got us old men
Gonna roll the ol’ dice
Ned’s faux pas are coming to town

He gets Treanor for catchin’
And Ellis who can’t rake
Rivera’ll be more bad than good
Now Harang? Oh for God’s sake!

Oh, he’s signin’ up vets
Just like they’re a prize
That’s all we get
4th place no surprise
Ned’s faux pas are coming to town

Ned’s faux pas are coming to town

©NedCo Broken Records 2011

Neddy the slow man was a PR man by trade.
With a raccoon toup and a stachio’d lip
Bet’s awhile since he’s got layed.

Neddy the slow man is a GM so they say.
Former Sammy Seal making rotten deals
Getting washed up vets to play.

Bets there’s still some magic in that
Old gray beard he’s found,
But when he signs that codger up
Only his mom would be proud.

O, Neddy the slow man
Was as dumb as he could be.
Sabermetrics damned, agents kick his can.
Can’tell his ass from OBP.

Neddy the slow man, the GM of L.A.
Said we’ll score less runs, D is number one
Cuz ol Frank still has a say.

Rest homes he’ll pillage
Waiving contracts in his hand.
Signs ‘em here and there, vir-tuly anywhere.
Geriatrics t’beat the band.

He signed Treanor and Ellis up
Though neither have some pop.
Harang, Francis – where does it end?
Had enough of Neddy’s crrrop.

Old Neddy the slow man
Wish they’d send him on his way
Want to wave bye-bye
Then I’ll ask God, “Why,”
Did he always over pay?”

Thunkety Thunk Thunk
Thunkety Thunk Thunk
Look at Neddy blow
Thunkety Thunk Thunk
Thunkety Thunk Thunk
Not tarded he’s just slow

©NedCo Broken Records 2011

Reply

BECAUSE DRE WHINES, JHALL’S NOT FINE

Since July twelve his hitting has flatlined
And now his yap flies open all the time
Sometimes he finds himself sat on the pine
Because Dre whines
JHall’s not fine

He finds that Ned and Don don’t have a clue
One day his knee’s bad, then the next its true
Don’t think he’ll stay next year in Dodger Blue
Because he whines
JHall’s not fine

Oh yes his numbers we have seen decline
And for nine plus mil it is a crime
And though his buttocks may still be sublime
Because he whines
JHall’s not fine

His pinky keeps from giving things a ride
Out of the limelight’s somewhere he can’t hide
And though he may be swallowing some pride
Because he whines
JHall’s not fine
Since July twelve his hitting has flatlined
And now his yap flies open all the time
Sometimes he finds himself sat on the pine
Because Dre whines
JHall’s not fine

© NedCo Broken Records 2011

CITY OF THE ANGELS

He never mentions the word champion
His team’s not much to see
Yes, as GM he’s a poor one
Part of the old Gnat family

He cries over the orange and black now
Picks up their scraps alright
Yes he heaves a sigh when they win yeah
There ain’t nuthin’ gonna make that right

chorus:
City of the Angels
Got an old Gnat goat to blame
Oh yeah, city of the Angels
Got ‘em an old Gnat goat to blame

Yeah we had a future, but he hocked it
So he could get his boys for free
Yes he took what was a shiny toy
Yeah and made it all now the misery
We see
City of the Angels
Got an old Gnat goat to blame
Oh yeah, city of the Angels
Got ‘em an old Gnat goat to blame

He don’t know no better
Not that I’ve ever seen
At best he ain’t done nuthin’
But at worst he has ruin’d everything

He cries oe’r the orange and black now
His ring brings memories
oh yeah, he still smiles when the shame comes
Finds excuse in poor play and injuries, want what used to be

City of the Angels
Got an old Gnat goat to blame
Oh yeah, city of the Angels
Got ‘em an old Gnat goat to blame

(Variations in chorus to fade)

©NedCo Broken Records 2011

On the McCourt front, Steve Dilbeck writes about how Frank can’t wait to start another lawsuit. What a piece of work!

Since music is the topic of the day, I would like to share the latest song by dodgereric, an ode to Frank and Ned. The song is based on “Evil and Dangerous Men”, written and performed by a friend of mine, actor and singer/songwriter Rick Moses. Some of you may remember him from the soap opera General Hospital, where he played the hitman “Hutch” who was hired to kill Luke and Laura.

Hapless and Pathetic Men
You can stare into the eyes of ineptness,
And swear that your ears hear an echo.
You can try to make trades under stress,
Out-smarted by a gecko
You can acquire the world’s greatest ballclub
And never spend a plugged nickel.
Fans trade your tickets on StubHub,
And your wife sticks you in a pickle.

Hapless and Pathetic men,
They don’t get it.
Hapless and Pathetic men, half of a half-wit.

Ned calls and the GMs want to answer,
They all smell the blood.
As a GM he makes a good dancer,
Man, that cat’s a dud.
He can’t sign good FAs
He cries he gots no money.
Good players he can’t appraise,
He just steps in Schidt, sonny.

Hapless and Pathetic men,
They don’t get it.
Hapless and Pathetic men, half of a half-wit.
Hapless and Pathetic men,
They don’t get it.
Hapless and Pathetic men, half of a half-wit.

(Instrumental interlude)

The owner and Ned have much in common
As they drive our team in the drink,
For the team has gone from the good to the bad
Frank’s gone from “bad” to “you stink”.
He owes money he cannot pay back
The Feds are checking his books,
For deception he has quite a knack
Lock him up with other crooks.

Hapless and Pathetic men,
They don’t get it.
Hapless and Pathetic men, half of a half-wit.
Hapless and Pathetic men,
They don’t get it.
Hapless and Pathetic men, half of a half-wit.
So close…

Jig’s up, creepy Jamie,
oh what could have been.
Wish we’d had the brains and savvy
to loot LA clean.

By kpookiemon on May 10, 2011 11:08 am - Reply